Quick Reids
by BlueSunflower
Summary: Collection of various short fics and/or drabbles, usually inspired by prompts at comment-fic at LJ . Fic 14: Exasperation
1. The Eighth Team Member

A/N 1: Since I seem to be addicted to comment-fic at LJ, I've decided to organize the smaller drabbles into one "story". The larger fics (like "Lessons Learned" and "Reading Reid" - which yes, will be updated when I have more reliable access to the internet since Reid requires a ton of research and a mega-thesaurus to write) will stand alone. These drabbles are not in order, and to be honest, some are more plausible than others.

A/N 2: Prompt for this one was "clothing"

A/N 3: I heart **catko**, the bestest beta of them all. Also, Criminal Minds isn't mine.

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><p><strong>Summary:<strong> This may very well be the saddest team loss of all.

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><p>On the surface, it seemed a simple loss. But no. The current tragedy the team faced ended up being almost harder than losing Elle, Gideon, and hell, JJ and Prentiss combined.<p>

Reid's messenger bag broke.

The kid'd had it for as long as anyone could remember, and probably years before that. It'd had a good life, and served its owner well. No one knew all of the exact contents other than the obvious books, case files, paper, and pens (plus suspected packets of Skittles Morgan insisted Reid was addicted to); but yeah, after over what everyone figured was at least a decade, it was time for the bag to well..._pass on._

It happened when Reid got out of the SUV after they pulled into the local station of their current case. The strap got caught on the door handle, and Reid inadvertently pulled too hard to free it.

The damage was extensive.

The reaction from the team was immediate.

JJ and Prentiss helped gather spilled items.

Morgan ran after the rolling bottles of water.

Hotch told Reid he was sorry about the loss.

Rossi just muttered something about it being a purse.

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><p>It took Morgan to finally notice Reid's reaction to the destruction of his beloved possession. Or rather, lack thereof. Morgan was vaguely reminded of when they'd walked into the school's bathroom after Jack Vaughan had shot that one kid right in front of Reid.<p>

Upon closer inspection of his friend, Morgan realized scratch that. It was _definitely_ the expression Reid held right now.

Rossi frowned, noticing it too.

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><p>Granted, Reid never took change well, but it didn't take a profiler to know the kid's level of grief was more than what even <em>Reid<em> would normally exhibit.

Hotch gently reminded Reid three times how much he needed the young profiler to focus.

Morgan wondered where Reid got all the duct tape to try and fix the blasted thing.

JJ did her best to keep Reid out of the main station, and planted firmly in the workroom with his maps.

Even Prentiss admitted it was embarrassing to acknowledge Reid was, in fact, grieving heavily for a _bag_.

Rossi, however, suggested they name the purse so they could at least pretend Reid was mourning a friend whenever the LEOs gave them sympathy over "whoever that poor kid's lost".

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><p>After a twelve hour workday with no leads, they went to the hotel for the night.<p>

The next morning, Reid came down sans bag, sunglasses on, a voice so quiet you almost needed hearing aids to understand, and head down so low the only thing the kid could possibly see was his Converse sneakers shuffling across the floor.

Even Rossi sighed.

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><p>Three days later and not even JJ could take it anymore. To his credit, Reid had actually been trying to move on and complete his geographic profile, but after the umpteenth time watching him reach instinctively for his now non-existent bag, JJ threw Morgan a pointed look, and the older agent finally caved.<p>

Throwing his pencil down, Morgan proclaimed, "C'mon, Reid, we're going for coffee."

"There's a new pot in the breakroom."

"I mean decent coffee, kid."

For the first time in days, Reid finally looked up. "Okay." Following his friend out the door, JJ gave a sigh of relief. If anyone could get to the bottom of the problem, it was Morgan.

Thirty minutes later and she learned the situation was worse than they'd originally thought. After sending Reid on an errand, Morgan walked into the room and closed the door. Turning to the team he announced, "It was his mom's."

"I _knew_ it was a purse!"

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><p>One phone call by Hotch, one frantic search by Garcia, one hotel key card "borrowed" by JJ, one forever-denied breaking and entering offense by Morgan, and two hours later Rossi and Prentiss walked into the leather shop with the ruined messenger bag.<p>

Rossi balked when told the price it would cost to fix the thing. "It's a damn purse!"

Prentiss shot him a look.

Pulling out his credit card, Rossi sighed. Again. "How much extra to get it done today?"

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><p>Six hours later and they were on the plane flying home. With the amount of money Rossi spent, the guy had fixed the bag in an hour. An hour after that, Reid had nailed the geographic profile. Two hours after that, they'd had the unsub in custody. And forty minutes after <em>that<em>, they'd had their confession.

Sunglasses now off, Reid was sitting in his chair next to Morgan, still in awe over his now better-than-ever messenger bag. Rossi and Prentiss sat across from him; Hotch and JJ across the aisle, doing paperwork.

Finally, Prentiss leaned in. Softly, she asked, "Hey Reid, where'd you get that bag, anyway?"

A smile graced their friend, and he quietly told them all about the bag. It was his mom's, from when she was a professor. He'd inherited it when he started school himself. The story involved scenes of a three year old Spencer joining her for her lectures; a quiet nook in a window in her office they frequently settled in; and books she pulled out of the bag and read with titles only she and Reid could pronounce.

Rossi never called it a purse again.


	2. Backfire

A/N Written for **katla_frej**'s prompt: _Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid, All he ever wanted was books_

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><p>He should have expected this.<p>

After all, Rossi was used to hazing the new guy. He'd even been a master hazer himself back before he retired. So technically, once he returned, the pranks were completely expected. Call it karma. It's just that he never thought it would come attached to what should have been the easiest assignment in the world.

He certainly never thought it would come in the form of the holiday gift exchange.

Suspicion arose the moment he pulled the small slip of paper out of Garcia's much too colorful bag. The smirks several of his teammates tried to hide clearly indicated something was up. It didn't take an expert profiler to conclude said mischief must somehow revolve around the name exchange.

For the life of him, though, he couldn't figure out why this simple workplace tradition was so entertaining to his new colleagues. Reid, of course, remained oblivious to whatever was going on, but hell – even Hotch could barely contain his amusement when Rossi silently read the name on the slip he'd pulled.

_Spencer Reid._

Plainly the name exchange was rigged, and everyone – other than Reid - knew.

Still puzzled, Rossi returned to his office to ponder the enigma. One would think pulling Reid's name would be a breeze. After all, Rossi had learned the first day he'd met him that all the kid ever wanted was books. The more the better. And the point of gift giving was to get people what they liked, right? Otherwise Rossi would just head to his local tailor and pick the kid up something that had, y'know, actual _style_.

But no. The kid loved more than anything in the world to rattle off information like a cannon. So, simple. A quick trip to the nearest bookstore, a couple minutes grabbing one, and twenty dollars later his job would be done. He would even spring the extra money to pay someone else to wrap it up.

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><p>Three days later when he made it to the damn place is when realization dawned. The place was packed, not only due to holiday shoppers, but also to a guest author in the Young Adult section, looking haggard as she tried mightily to keep her spirits up at the sight of all the people waiting in line to see her. Rossi winced in commiseration. These places were also his domain, after all. He'd certainly spent enough time in them autographing his own books.<p>

But the author's plight wasn't what concerned him the most right now. Gazing at all the books surrounding him, he finally understood the adage "Water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink".

Reid had probably already read everything here. Most likely in one trip.

_Shit_.

Christ, what do you get the guy who has literally read everything?

And since there was no way in hell Rossi would ever dare step into a Goodwill to try and determine what horrendous sweater vest Reid would like best, Rossi suddenly realized exactly why he'd been set up by the others.

Contrary to initial appearances, it turned out Spencer Reid was absolutely, positively, _without a doubt_, the hardest person to shop for.

Momentarily stumped, and annoyed his teammates may very well have got the better of him, Rossi continued to idly watch the other author sign book after book after book. Suddenly, as a old memory hit him, an idea formed. A small smile escaped as he turned and headed out the door. Pulling out his cell, he dialed.

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><p>Two weeks later they exchanged gifts. Unsurprisingly, they'd left Reid for last.<p>

JJ and Morgan managed synchronized eyerolls as Reid patiently unwrapped his gift, making sure not to create a single tear. Apparently, the rest of the team knew to give Reid the presents where you only took the box top off.

"You're missing the point of opening gifts, Reid," Prentiss teased. "It's supposed to be messy."

Reid merely responded back. "If carefully handled, quality wrapping paper can be reused for a number of years. While the prevalence of tree farming specifically for harvesting is increasing, the fact is most wood-based products are still – Garcia!"

Garcia had reached down and tore the paper for him. "We recycle. I'm impatient, Genius Boy. Another point you're missing about opening gifts."

Reid petulantly grumbled quietly as he continued his still painstakingly slow reveal of the present. "Deforestation is a critical hazard to the planetary ecosystem."

Now _six_ pairs of eyes rolled.

Finally finished unwrapping, Reid peered into the box. Confusion marked his face as he pulled out the contents. They were six books. More still, six books everyone surrounding him knew Reid already had. All were written by different well-known former BAU and other FBI members, including Max Ryan – and of course, one by Rossi himself. All people Reid had made clear he most admired and idolized.

"Open them," Rossi suggested.

So Reid did. As his eyes grew wide, Rossi knew he'd made the right decision.

Each book was personally hand signed by its respective author, with glowing praises dedicated to the youngest profiler in the history of the BAU.

Reid didn't respond. He actually seemed incapable. However, the broadest grin Rossi had ever seen graced Reid's features. The emanating gratitude was unmistakable.

"You're welcome, kid."

Reid could only nod enthusiastically, and delighted, hurried off to his desk - presumably to start reading them again for what Rossi assumed was the millionth time.

The team turned to stare at him.

Smirking, and silently gloating that he may very well be the first person to ever render Reid speechless, Rossi shrugged innocently. "What? I know people."

As the rest of the team regained their composure at the comeuppance, Hotch just shook his head and started to chuckle. "You win, Dave. But you do know this means you'll get his name next year too?"

Damn. Aaron just trumped his trump. He hadn't thought of that.

Accepting defeat gracefully, Rossi sighed. "Tell me again how that's winning?"


	3. Hidden Light

A/N: **mangacrack's **prompt _Supernatural with Criminal Mind/Psych, any angel + Reid and/or Shawn, what if humans with a photographic memory are former angels? _

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><p><strong>Summary<strong>_: You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house." Matthew 5:14-5:15_

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><p>Silently, Raphael watched the body laying on the hospital bed. The monitors surrounding the boy - no, man now - emitted faint beeps as they kept track of the frail human system that tethered this particular soul to the Earth.<p>

"It's not your time to return home just yet, little one," murmured the healer, as he moved closer to the bed. "Still much work left for you to do..." A gentle glow surrounded the form of the man, who up until this point hadn't moved. Suddenly, the body gave a weak cough.

Smiling gently, Raphael pulled back, pleased with the response. Of all the times that had necessitated a visit to this particular soul, the situation before him had turned out to be the most dire. "Anthrax, my friend?" A small chuckle escaped the Angel. "You know you're supposed to suffer while here, but you don't have to _willingly _go look for it."

Footsteps outside the room alerted Raphael that he was not the only one checking up on a treasured colleague. An older man entered, unable to see the Archangel, and walked to the bed. Sitting down on the chair beside it, the man gently chided the quiet form. "Man, Reid, I swear if you don't wake up soon, I'm calling dibs on your Jello."

Fading out, Raphael smiled again. While Spencer Reid's days on Earth would yet be filled with many more obstacles that normal mortals would not be able to endure, they would also be filled with love and friendship from the humans closest to him.

...at least until he returned to his true friends, and his rightful place in Heaven.


	4. First Date

A/N: **sycophantastic**' prompt _Criminal Minds, Morgan/Reid, this is what he gets for letting Reid, the big freakin' (adorable) geek, pick where they go on their first date_

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><p>Morgan found out the hard way it's difficult to be manly when you're carrying a three foot tall stuffed pink teddy bear. But this is what he gets for letting Reid, the big freakin' (adorable) geek, pick where they went for their first date.<p>

Of course it would be to a street carnival.

The shooting gallery.

_Only_.

Reid had walked straight over to it, gave Morgan the puppy eyes no mere mortal could resist, and suddenly Morgan found himself forking over God knows how much money, and spending the next hour shooting damn bottles off a damn shelf.

Morgan was pretty sure Reid had been planning this humiliating experience for awhile. Except, for some reason Reid was anything but embarrassed. If anything, Morgan had never seen him this happy.

Sighing exasperatedly, he lugged the behemoth toy as he dutifully followed behind the object of his affection. Reid was literally bouncing with giddiness, arms filled with even more monstrously stuffed animals, rambling something about caramel popcorn, cotton candy, and the history of...well, whatever he was rambling about.

Garcia was going to use this as blackmail material for _years_.

Morgan fought the grin threatening to break out on his face.

Completely worth it.


	5. Someone Special

A/N 1: Written for **scripps'** prompt: _Criminal Minds, Morgan/author's choice, fourth date_.

A/N 2: Many, many, MANY thanks to **catko**, who not only helped with the opening and closure of this scene, but also wrote the best line in it.

A/N 3: Thank you for the comments!

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><p>Friday night, and Morgan stepped out of his office and headed down to the darkened bullpen. A pool of light caught his attention. Checking his watch, he headed over to the desk where Reid still sat, head bent over a stack of papers. "Hey kid, pulling a late night? Working on, what, your tenth Ph.D?"<p>

Looking up, Reid shook his head smugly. "Fifth." He tilted his head as he took in Morgan's changed outfit. "You haven't worn a tie outside of an official function since - " the kid's gaze went inward as he searched his memories " - April 29, 2009."

"Dinner with Stacy," Morgan told him. "Later, dancing - and with any luck - the kind that involves the tie coming off." Flashing a smile, he added, "If you know what I mean."

"Unfortunately, I do," Reid replied dryly, then furrowed his eyebrows. Tentatively he asked, "Hey, Morgan? Do you, uh, do you think she'll be the one?"

Morgan grimaced. "Reid, we've only been dating two weeks. Gimme a break, man, we barely know each other. Besides, you know me. Player 'til the end." Cocking his head, he gave Reid his patented grin. "Catcha later, kid." Turning toward the door, he headed out - only to stop when he heard his friend's reply.

"But it's your fourth date."

There was something in the kid's tone; it was almost _too_ nonchalant. A sure sign something was up. With anyone else, it'd be almost impossible to catch, but this was Reid, and Morgan knew better.

Turning back, he saw he was right. The kid's attention was now back to overly studying the papers in front of him. Morgan sighed. From experience, he knew Reid actively avoided eye contact whenever something bothered him. Unfortunately, it also usually meant a difficult conversation was ahead.

Surprisingly, it seemed this time Morgan might not have to drag it out. Never looking up, Reid continued. "I mean, it's rare you have a fourth date. You always stop seeing them before it gets to that point. So you must think she's special enough to keep seeing."

Morgan was lost. Obviously, Reid was trying to hint at something, but he had no idea what. Sure, Morgan might be an expert profiler, but damned if the kid didn't have dancing around a topic down to a science. They really needed to write a _How to Read Reid_ manual.

Then Morgan remembered a recent conversation, and the dots connected. "Reid, what happened to that cute barista you were going on about yesterday? What was her name, Katie? Casey?"

"Cassie. I took your advice and asked her to a movie."

Concern grew. "And you're not going out with her tonight?"

Reid shifted uncomfortably while seemingly now absorbed with the pencil in his hand. At length, the younger man quietly spoke, "She said she already had a boyfriend."

Morgan frowned. "I thought you checked to make sure she was single."

"I did. She was." A pause while Reid continued to refuse to meet his eyes. "Still is, actually."

Oh.

_Oh_.

Suddenly it clicked. While Morgan spent most of his days avoiding a fourth date, Reid spent his wondering why he couldn't even get a _first_ one.

Well, shit.

"I keep replaying the conversation. I'm not sure where I went wrong." Reid finally looked up again at Morgan. "Do you think I should go back and ask her?"

"Reid..."

The young genius didn't notice. "I mean, I've considered the possibility that it wasn't my fault, but the common denominator during these events _is_ me and statistically speaking - "

Morgan cut him off. "Reid, stop it. The problem isn't you."

"But the problem _must_ be me, Morgan. There must be a reason everyone leaves."

Aha. He should have known. Of course this was about more than a recent rejection from a potential date. Morgan leaned down on the desk. "Reid, listen to me, and listen closely. Your dad, Gideon, hell, even Cassie – these are not because there's anything wrong with you. Gideon lost it. You said yourself your dad was weak. I mean, what kind of a man leaves their kid like that? Cassie..." Morgan shook his head. "I have no clue what her problem is – and to be honest, I don't care. But one thing I _do_ know: you _will_ find someone some day."

Reid looked troubled. "How can you be sure?"

"Because you are too good to pass up, and one day you will meet the girl who will realize that." Morgan straightened, and gestured toward Reid. "And remember, not everyone leaves." Clapping the kid on the shoulder, he grinned. "You and me, man, we're on for a night on the town, right? How 'bout Sunday?"

The younger man perked up. "Can I pick?"

Morgan pretended to sigh. "Can it at least have more action than talking?"

Reid considered for a moment as he perused in his brain the schedules of every event in DC - if not the entire continental US - that no one could figure out how he managed to learn. "The Japanese taiko drummers of Yamato are playing Lisner at seven."

Morgan chuckled. "Alright, yeah. It's a date, genius."

The young profiler mimicked a small fist pump. "Yes!"

Ruffling his friend's hair, Morgan stood and headed toward the exit. "Night, pretty boy."

"Hey, Morgan?"

Turning around, Morgan hesitated before pushing the glass door open. "Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"Anytime, kid."


	6. Tis the Season

A/N: Written for **gypsydancergirl**'s prompt: _Criminal Minds, Garcia & Team, the virtual photo albums of Penelope Garcia._

A/N 2: I hate Windows Update. HATE.

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><p>Oddly enough, Garcia doesn't have a complete picture of the reunited team.<p>

Oh, she has photos of every _single_ one of them: Shots of Morgan with his devilish grin and Rossi with his "don't fuck with me" attitude; candids of JJ working at her new desk; shy Reid ducking from the camera; Emily surprised by a flashbulb going off in her face. There is even one of Hotch blinking. A few are of several of them together.

But never **all**.

The reason of course, is because Garcia doesn't want a team picture where someone is sad. Worse, someone pretending to be happy.

And with the job they do, not even on the good days can some of them cover it. Hotch, worried about his son; Rossi's depression over the loss of his first wife; Reid's trepidation that shows his fear of trust in his returning comrades; Morgan's subtle anger still lingering over the betrayal; Emily's uncertainty about her place, even though they continue to treat her as their equal; JJ, overwhelmed at times with her new position.

It takes, of all things, a winter's day to solve the problem.

Walking to the plane - after finishing a long and grueling case that had required even Garcia to join them - Morgan got smacked in the back of his head with a snowball.

Startled, Morgan turned around to see their youngest profiler, looking entirely _too_ innocent.

Two minutes later and the war emcompassed every member. Emily and JJ took pity on poor Reid - currently being chased around the tarmac by Morgan, arms filled with snow. The women scrambled to avoid the frozen onslaught as Morgan immediately changed direction. In the melee, Rossi had been inadvertantly hit; and declaring if he goes, then so goes the unit chief - promptly hitting Hotch square in the back as the other man tried to escape up the stairs into the warmth of the jet.

No one touched Garcia. After all, a woman with the power to ruin your credit score should always be declared safe in a snowball fight.

Which is how the technical analyst finally got her picture. Giving her cellphone to the pilot, she stood on the middle of the jet ramp, blocking the way as the now exhausted team tried to make their way up.

The next day, the picture of the ever-bright Garcia, surrounded by her grinning snow covered friends - with an added bonus of Morgan dragging a squirming Reid up the steps - became the most proudly displayed adornment in her office.


	7. The Proud Peacock

A/N 1: Oddly enough, no prompt this time. Why can't all the other fics and ideas I'm slaving over write themselves this easily? Whyyyyyyyyyy.

A/N 2: c.a.t.k.o.c.a.t.k.o.c.a.t.k.o.c.a.t.k.o.c.a.t.k.o.c.a.t.k.o

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><p>"Hey, Morgan?" Reid called, catching up to his friend in the corridor outside the BAU offices.<p>

The older man stopped and turned around. "Yeah, kid?"

"Can I ask you a question? When a woman opens a door for you, are you supposed to go through, or insist on holding the door yourself?"

Morgan looked puzzled as both started walking down the hall again. "Why are you asking, man?"

"Well, I was on my date with Elaine last night - "

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Morgan stopped short. "Back that train up. You were on a date? With Elaine? You mean you two've finally graduated to seeing each other in the evenings?" A note of incredulity caught in his voice. "And why is this the first I'm hearing about it?"

"I told you yesterday!"

"Uh no, genius, no you did not. I'm pretty sure if you'd mentioned anything about a date with our favorite lab tech, I'm damn sure I'd remember."

"I did too!" Reid insisted. "We discussed Washington National Opera's performance of Mozart's risqué _Così fan tutte_ and I told you I had tickets!"

"Wait." Morgan's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Are you talking about that hour long monologue on the – and I quote - " he mimicked air quotes - "'emotional disparity as distinguished by the dissonance between the music and libretto'? You know I tuned that out halfway through."

"It wasn't an hour, it was six minutes," came the petulant reply.

"Less than halfway then." Morgan stood there for a moment, scrutinizing his friend. Suddenly, he accused, "You bored me on purpose so you could slip that tidbit in about the tickets – plural - without me noticing, didn't you?"

Reid shifted uncomfortably. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he denied.

Suspicion arose even further. "You kept your girl secret on purpose so I wouldn't badger you." Damn if the kid didn't look guiltier than hell. "Exactly how long has this been going on, Reid?" Morgan demanded.

"Well," Reid drawled, rocking on his heels as a small, impish grin appeared. "After last night, I can tell you she owns eight pairs of shoes."

Morgan chuckled all the way down the hall.


	8. Fall of the Warrior

A/N: Written for **livingtolaugh**'s prompt: _Criminal Minds, Gideon, He almost stayed_

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><p>Despite what others believe, Jason isn't self-centered.<p>

Yes, on occasion he will admit to some self-absorption, but after twenty years, he feels entitled. This job shows the worst of humanity, not the best. So a moment away from the team, in order to mourn the loss of his violence-free haven?

Deal with it.

Because it's Monsters - not Angels - that fill his days, and his dreams. The horrific part is knowing these monsters are real. There are people who claw, chew, saw, carve, hit, stab, and shoot their way through the people around them. They do it for love, for hate, for apathy, for curiousity, for the Devil, for God.

Some even do it for fun.

Jason wants to stay. He does. He is not alone, after all. These monsters fill the days and dreams of his team too. After Adrian, he held it together. It took time, but he did it.

Jason knows Spencer will take it the hardest. But he also knows it will be for the best. Children don't thrive in households where parents are falling apart. His own divorce taught him that. Spencer, like Stephen, is better off without him.

As Frank proved, tape that holds a broken twig together is not the same as a healed branch capable of supporting weight.

And it's the weight that bears down on him so hard.


	9. Innocence of Snow

**A/N** 1: Written for **elfgirljen**'s prompt: _any, any, watching the snow fall_

**A/N** 2: i now have wifi i now have wifi i now have wifi i now have wifi i now have wifi i now have wifi i now have wifi!

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><p>Leaving the hotel office after checking out, Hotch stepped out into the frozen wasteland of the parking lot. Bone weary, he walked through the lightly falling snow over to the team, already waiting by the snowcapped SUV. A quick glance informed the Unit Chief he wasn't alone in his exhaustion. The unsub had not been caught in time, and once again, they faced the end of a case with no happy endings.<p>

The case had been hell, on everyone. None moreso than the youngest. Reid had been first on the scene. Hell, he'd almost been the _only_ one on the scene. Despite his attempting life-saving measures, the girl had succumbed to death just as the rest of the team arrived. It had taken JJ and Blake to finally pull the young agent away, and try to wipe some of the blood off him. Nothing could help his clothes.

Approaching the team through the bitter cold, Hotch noticed one person missing. "Where's Reid?"

At first no one said anything, then Rossi jerked his head over to Morgan, who wasn't facing them - instead, his gaze intent on whatever was beyond the vehicle.

Hotch turned to take a look. Standing in the middle of the parking lot, a lone figure stared up at the sky as the large flakes fell gracefully around him. Reid was silent, and Hotch knew in that moment, oblivious to everything except the peaceful scene surrounding him.

Morgan nodded towards the kid. "You want me to get him?"

Knowingly, Hotch shook his head. "No. We'll wait." He opened the driver's side door and got in. As the team settled in their seats, leaving the front passenger seat for Reid, Hotch caught Morgan's eyes in the reflection in the rearview mirror.

_With his eidetic memory, let Reid have a good one to wash out the case on the way home_, he thought. _We have too many bad memories haunting us already._


	10. Death by Sandwich

**A/N** 1: Written for** crimsom_antic**'s prompt:_ Criminal Minds, Team (any/any), "He's killing his victims...with a sandwich?"_

**A/N** 2: I can't believe how much I needed to research for this thing. Sheesh. Also, thanks to **catko**, awesome of awesomes!

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><p>"Reid, you can't be serious," Morgan complained.<p>

"Yeah, Reid," came JJ's exasperated response. "He's killing his victims...with a sandwich?"

Never one to stop once his train of thought shot off from the depot, Reid's excitement mounted. "Historically, it's said a sandwich is behind one of the deadliest wars in history. Twenty million people were killed in the aftermath of the assassination of Franz Ferdinand, the Archduke of Austria. The Archduke had survived an earlier bombing attempt on his life, but later decided to visit the victims at the Sarajevo Hospital. His driver took a wrong turn, and mistakenly drove past a cafe where Gavrilo Princip, one of the conspirators, happened to be eating. While the driver tried to turn around, Princip saw his opportunity and took it, thereby creating the spark that eventually grew into World War I."

Mistaking the silence greeting him as evidence the team was waiting to hear more, Reid finished happily. "Supposedly, it was a cheese sandwich."

"Well, I know that would have made _me_ want to kill," Rossi commented dryly.

Mercifully, Hotch finally stepped in. "If it's food poisoning, then we need to know what type of poisoner we're dealing with."

Reid nodded. "True Believer, Extortionist, Prankster, or Avenger."

"Right," Morgan added, finally glad the subject was back on target. "And to do that, we need to know the poison."

"Food poisoning, either by chemical or bacterial means, has long been used as a method for killing," Reid mused. "Within the last month alone, Beth Dickison Richards was arrested for crushing up multiple Trazodone pills and placing them in her husband's tuna fish sandwich, and eight patients in a hospital in the United Kingdom died due to listeria-infected sandwiches. Theoretically, it's also possible to kill a person with severe heart disease by having them ingest a high caloric meal."

Before Reid could ramble on again, Hotch cut in. "Randolph's autopsy said there was no signs of heart disease, so we'll leave that option off the table for now. Morgan, Reid," Hotch ignored Morgan's _aw man _expression, "go back to the coroner and see if they can identify whether it was a chemical or bacterial poison. Have her check for ones that don't normally show up in autopsy."

"Sure," Reid readily agreed. As he and Morgan set off, the team watched Morgan slump as the voice of the young doctor exuberantly trailed off as they went out the door. "Hey, did you hear about the guy arrested for attacking his wife with a sandwich? They didn't detail the ingredients, but a deputy found several pieces of lunchmeat on the carpet..."

When the two were out of earshot, Blake finally asked, "Where does he learn this stuff?"

Rossi snorted. "One of the great mysteries of life."

Rolling her eyes, JJ just sighed. "And whatever you do, don't ask."

"Too boring?" Blake questioned.

"No," Hotch deadpanned. "Too much to digest."


	11. The Most Important One

For **ice_ziggee**'s prompt at Criminal Minds Comment Fic: _Hotch - promises should be kept at all cost_.

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><p>A promise should be kept at all cost. Aaron Hotchner knows this. It's why he doesn't make them anymore. His track record is too abysmal.<p>

_Dad'll be fine, Sean._

_I'll be home before dinner, honey._

_I won't let work interrupt us._

_No one hurts my team._

And of course, the worst broken promise of all:

_I take you to be my lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part._

But as the small creature in his arms - still struggling to understand a magnitude of loss no child should ever learn - cuddled closer into his chest, Hotch knew this time he could make a promise he would always be able to keep.

"Do you promise, Daddy?" the tiny voice sniffled into the comforting blanket wrapped warmly around them.

"Yes, Jack. I promise I will love you **forever**. No matter what."


	12. Typical

A/N: For universe_the challenge: No, mine is worst! (Worst fic).

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><p>"Hello, Agent Hotchner," I greet nervously. This is my first day at the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI and I want to make a good impression.<p>

"Call me Hotch." said Hotch. "Team, this is Chardonnay St. Clare. She's our new member"

"She's so young." Morgan frowned.

"Don't worry, Agent Morgan," I reassured him. "Although I am only 19, I have an IQ of 214, six PHds, and am an expert in 22 methods of self-defense."

"Hey, Pretty Boy,"Morgan laughed at Reid. "She's even more of a genius than you!"

Everyone goes into the conference room and scrolls through their iPads, except Reid. He prefers paper.

"Man, this is a puzzler." JJ complained.

"Not really, " I say. "The unsub is likely a white male, between the ages of 26-28, he works at a menial job in the clothing industry. He's got an Irish accent and raises pigeons. He shouldn't be too hard to find."

Hotch looked impressed. "Good job, Dr. St. Clare. Write up your report and email it to them.

Rossi said, "Congratulations. Not even genius boy has solved a case this fast."

Reid smiled. "It's nice to have help."

As everyone was leaving, Agent Morgan approached me. "Hey, St. Clare. Can you teach me those self-defense skills?"

I shrug nonchalantly, secretly happy they accept me. "Sure."

Reid timidly asked. "Would you like to have lunch? I'd love to ask you about your PhDs."

Man, he was cute. "No problem" I say, pleased I've found my new family.


	13. Metaphors

**A/N: **For the prompt Criminal Minds, Reid/Prentiss, miscommunication by **myconstant,** as well as the prompt "Laughter is Life" challenge at universe-the at LJ

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><p>It was the silence that warned them. Specifically, the sudden silence from the profiler whom a moment ago had been merrily pontificating on the pros and cons of body preservation.<p>

"Reid?" Hotch finally prompted, as the young genius continued to flip through his files with a frown.

Much to everyone's surprise, Reid didn't immediately answer. Finally, the kid looked up and gave them all a puzzled look. "Their bodies were found in alleys, not their places of residence."

This time it was the team's turn to be confused. "Yes," Rossi said slowly, "we've already discussed that."

The doctor returned his attention to his case file, oblivious to the odd looks he now gathered from around the table. "There's also," he added, "no notations in the file on the victims' home décor."

"What's your point, Reid?" Hotch asked.

"Yeah, kid," Morgan added. "Why the new topic?"

Reid hesitated. "Emily's comment," he said, as if that explained all. Then he perked up, always eager to share information no matter what the subject. "There _are_ certain types of interior designs - "

"Reid," Hotch interrupted, ignoring Rossi's smirk. "That's not what Prentiss meant."

"Yeah, Reid," Prentiss winced. "It was a joke."

Now the young profiler looked even more bewildered. "Oh."

Saving Reid from further awkwardness, Hotch closed his folder. "We'll continue this on the jet. Wheels up in thirty." He threw a pointed glance at Prentiss before he left; Reid right behind him. She nodded in embarrassment.

Getting up, Prentiss adopted her sweetest tone. "Hey, Morgan?"

"Uh uh," Morgan put his hands up in defense. "You know the rules. You screw up, you clean up."

"I can't wait 'til you tell him what 'carpet' and 'drapes' really mean, and why they're supposed to match," Garcia grinned.

Prentiss just groaned. "This is gonna suck."

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><p>AN 2: Since they basically killed off Reid and made him, the entire team, and the show unwatchable (among other things), I haven't tuned in, so this may or may not be updated. I am, however, closing out my other fic, "Reading Reid". I have drafts that relate to it, but it's unrealistic to think at this point I'll ever go back to them. If you have any questions, feel free to visit my tumblr (blue-sunflowers). My recaps are there as well.


	14. Exasperation

Prompt (signe_chan at gameofcards): Learning to do something for the first time.

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><p>"It's not that hard, Reid," Morgan sighed at his friend.<p>

"Yes, it is," Reid started to protest, running his hand through his unruly hair. "The rules used are informal and vary widely - "

"Reid," Morgan interrupted before the doctor could gain traction in his story. "You've just gotta get outta your head. Put your body into it."

"I am!" came the response.

Morgan rolled his eyes. "Putting your hands up in defeat does not count as trying, Doc."

"Fine." Reid - putting on that sullen teenager face Morgan was so familiar with - started again. "I still don't see why we have to do this. You can complete the same task using different vocabulary, you know," he pouted, then raised his excitement as his train of thought started leaving the station. "This was the original intent, actually. It was done by indicating a riddle either in verse or prose - "

Jesus, the kid was an expert on distraction. "We're not going over this again," Morgan told him sternly, interrupting him again. "So help me God, you're going to learn how act out phrases, even if it kills me. JJ and Garcia are **not **going to beat us at charades again."


End file.
